At First
by Monkeybarrel
Summary: (Wild Adapter. Five parts, complete.) Tokitoh wakes up to an unfamiliar world. Kubota wakes up to unfamiliar emotions. Both meet each other, one sense at a time.
1. At First Sight

Disclaimer: Minekura owns all that is Wild Adapter.

Warnings: Language, yaoi bits

Notes: A gift story for the always-wonderful Lux. Complete, in five parts. Feedback is always appreciated, and thank you.

Note 2: Just to let readers know, this story was written/posted before dice 26 of WA came out. That chapter and those following (which will later be collected into vol. 5) tell the story of what happened between Kubota and Tokitoh during their first year. Thus, this story (and Long Way Around, another Kubotoki-beginning fic) slides into AU-land.

**At First**

In bed, with the late night quiet blanketing the streets outside, Kubota lay alone.

**Sight**

The gray January sky loomed above him, and with every step, his breath did a poor job of matching its form and color. Less than a second, and it had already disappeared in the cold air around him, like it had never existed.

He took out a cigarette and let its gray smoke breathe for him, since today, his air was not constant enough. He walked back home, slow and steady. In his hand, he held the bag of food he'd bought at the 7-11 only minutes before. It weighed nothing, but his arm still drooped, and the bag banged on his leg with every step, almost as if that was its way of breathing, of existing.

Since he was watching his feet on the sidewalk, he noticed her sandals first. As his gaze rose up, he saw her black, tightly-wound kimono, her clasped, pale hands, and her grim face, as gray as the sky above.

For a moment, his heart did stop, but not his feet. As she bowed low to him, he walked past her. He felt the bag of food bang against his leg, and he saw his breath stream out in a gray, disappearing line, and he walked, and he walked.

"I am alive," He spoke low with his gray air, but there was nothing to say after that.

_Is this what he had wanted, back then, with his hands so tight on my coat..._

"Ramen tonight." Another night where he would sit in his dark living room, tasting salty noodles, and feeling nothing else.

He looked up and sighed, and saw that his air disappeared right into the cloud-filled sky.

Alive, yes, but feeling nothing else.

Was this all that there was to be? Was this all there was to find?

He looked back down as he turned the corner into the alley behind his building. The bag banged against his leg, and a slight chill blew his gray breath back into his face, and he saw, underneath that looming sky-

A body.

Rumpled clothes, ashen face, a hand lying across, its fur and long nails like those of a wild animal, eyes closed-

For a moment, his heart stopped, but not his feet. He had to put down the bag first, and when he picked it back up, it seemed much heavier. And when he walked, he saw two clouds of breath, one far fainter than the other.

Faint, yes, but still there.

He didn't know why that relieved him, just as he wasn't quite sure why he carried this faintly-breathing weight, but still he walked, and he walked.


	2. At First Smell

**At first – 2**

**Smell**

Later, he would also include "glasses" or "too fucking tall", but his first and strongest marker, the point above all that symbolized Kubota to him, was cigarettes. He could barely separate imagining Kubota's lips or his fingers without a small white stick held between them.

The first moment he remembered, the very first moment, since everything else was lost in a fog just out of his reach, was of him lying in a bed, his cheek pressed against a pillow, and a blanket on top of him. He felt tired, yet warm, which seemed strange at the time. A part of his mind still clicked "watch out", but he didn't know why. The part that was warm and tired though somehow blanketed the "watch out" part, quieting it just as he turned in the bed, his eyes still closed. As he breathed in, there was another click in his mind as he realized that there was something familiar about where he was.

"…It smells like cigarettes."

His voice was hoarse, but still working, and he repeated it a few times.

He didn't know where he had smelled cigarettes before, but he knew what they were, and he knew what they smelled like, and as he brought his face closer to the pillow, he breathed in, and the familiarity of it somehow comforted him, but he didn't know why.

Later, he would open his eyes, and see all the unfamiliarity that surrounded him, and he would feel cold, and lost, and alone. Later, he would meet the person whose bed he slept in, and whose clothes he wore. Later, when the door to the bedroom opened, and in walked someone, a stranger, very tall, with glasses, and between his lips he held a thin white stick.

Later, he would fight, and tear, and scream, because the unfamiliarity scared the hell out of him, just as his fucked-up hand scared the hell out of him. And each time he fought, each tear, each scream, he was confronted with someone who never fought back, who just sat there by him, always smoking a cigarette. And later, moment after moment, things changed. He couldn't explain why, but they did, and there was a whole new familiar where the cold, lost, and alone had been. It wore glasses, and was too fucking tall, and cooked curry too fucking much, but-

But that was later, and something he couldn't see, couldn't imagine seeing now. Now, he lay in that bed, too tired to move, and everything around him, from the pillow to the sheets to the shirt he wore, smelled liked cigarettes.

And he felt warm, and that "watch out" part of his mind lay quiet in his mind, and he forgave himself for that just as the scent of the one thing he recognized lulled him back to unconsciousness. He slept, and in his dream, his heard a door open, and felt a warm hand touch his face, the fingers of which carried a smell too familiar to ever forget.


	3. At First Touch

**At first - 3**

**Touch**

At first, he hated it when someone touched him. Whenever he felt someone else's hand on him, something in him shot to the surface so fast that it was only after he realized that he'd struck out. He didn't understand why, but still he felt afraid, and angry, and the need to- to just get away. The first time that he'd been awake when the hack had come over, he'd fallen out of the bed because he had tried to move away from him. That had been after he'd hit him in the chest. "Get the fuck away" He waved his arm out to keep Kou at bay.

"Perhaps this is a bad time." Kou turned to the doorway where Kubota stood. Kubota made no move to help him off the floor.

"I don't think it will ever be a good time." Kubota looked down at him. "Are you okay"

"What the hell is going on" He kept his gaze on Kou as he grabbed onto the bed for support.

Kubota dropped down to a crouch so that they were at eye-level. "You." He pointed. "Sick. He" He pointed to Kou. "Doctor. Make you feel better. Make you not throw up in my garbage can." He pointed to the container next to the bed. "Got it"

"Don't talk to me like I'm fucking five."

"Then quit acting like it."

His eyes widened. "What the- I didn't ask for this"

"Well, that makes two of us." Kubota looked around the room. "But this is what we have. And if you don't like it, then feel free to walk out this door and then" he pointed to down the hall. "Walk out that door. And then walk down all the stairs to the street, and then walk down the street, and do whatever you want from there. But first, you will have to get through this door on your own." He stood up and leaned against the wall. "Any time you want."

Tokitoh's grip on the bed tightened, and he wanted more than anything to throw something at Kubota. He looked around, and saw the garbage can, but when he grabbed it, the pain in his right hand flared up, and the can clattered to the floor. He sucked in his breath and brought his hand to his chest.

"Does it hurt much" The guy who Kubota had called a "doctor" asked.

Tokitoh looked straight at him. "No." He didn't care if no one believed him. "No, it's fine. I'm fine."

"Well, that's fine." Kubota still had not budged from where he stood.

"Fine then." Kou nodded. "Then you don't need me right now, do you" He got up and walked to the door. He gave Kubota a look and then left the room.

Tokitoh glared at Kubota from the floor. Even with the pain in his hand, he felt somewhat triumphant. _See? I can make him leave at least._

It was as if Kubota could hear his thoughts. "You think he's going to leave just because of that" He shook his head. "You don't understand. The triads don't even mess with him anymore."

"I don't give a fuck." Tokitoh didn't know what the hell a triad was, but they had to be pretty lame to be afraid of that guy.

"You don't have to, but" Kubota pointed again to the door. "Until you walk out that door by yourself, you're doing what he wants, and he wants you to get back in that bed and drink that." He pointed to the cup on the bedside table. "And that's it. Not too bad, huh"

He didn't reply. Instead, he clung to the bed with his left hand, and stared back at him.

Kubota shrugged and walked out of the room. Tokitoh heard footsteps down the hall, followed by low voices, but he couldn't make out what was said, then more footsteps, and then a door shutting. He stayed on the floor the entire time.

Slow footsteps walked back towards him, and he looked up to see Kubota in the doorway again. They stayed like that for a long moment, just staring at each other. Kubota broke the silence.

"You can't get up, can you"

Tokitoh cringed. He hated how easy he was to read. "...Fuck you"

Kubota raised his eyebrows. "Okay." He walked over to him.

"Get the hell away from me" Tokitoh let go of the bed and waved his arm to block, but Kubota moved past it and reached around his middle. With a grunt, he picked him up and hauled him onto the bed. It was over in a few seconds.

"That's it though." Kubota made a show of dusting himself off. "No more freebies. Next time, you'll have to pay, and Kubota's Moving Service is not the cheapest enterprise. It does happen to be the one that lives here" He pointed to Tokitoh"with you." He reached over and picked up the tea cup. "Now, one down, one to go."

He wanted to smack the cup away, to break it, to break everything. The anger and embarrassment from not being able to fight back burned hot inside of him. But when he looked back at Kubota, he saw only a calm and unassuming face. And he remembered that just a moment ago, his hands had been around him, not gentle, not rough, just...there.

And somehow, it hadn't ended horribly, which was different from what every fear and instinct inside told him.

A part of him liked to think that maybe there was nothing to be afraid of here, but another part, the part that moved faster than he could think, said that could never happen.

He looked from Kubota to the door. "I can leave at anytime. You can't make me stay here."

"You're right." Kubota nodded. "But you'll have to do it on your own first."

Tokitoh lay there for a moment and then slowly, reached for the cup. "I'm gonna do it, so don't you forget it."

"I won't."

Their fingers touched when he took it, but he didn't allow himself to accept anything more. He couldn't. Everything inside him told him that it was bad- that he had to get away.

As he drank, he kept his eyes on Kubota who only looked back at him. He coughed. "This tastes like shit."

"Then it must be good for you."

He hadn't finished the tea before he started to droop, and he felt Kubota's hand again over his, taking the cup away.

"No freebies" he mumbled as he dropped his head to the pillow.

"We'll start a tab, okay"

The blanket was pulled up to his chin, and he heard footsteps move away from the bed. Before everything slipped away, he turned his head to the door.

"I'm so gonna...kick your ass too."

He thought the light turning off was his only response, but then, before the door closed, he heard.

"I'll be waiting."


	4. At First Sound

**At first - 4**

**Sound**

It happened so suddenly that at first Kubota hadn't registered it. One moment went right into the next, and it was gone. He thought he must have heard wrong. It seemed too strange of a thing to happen that it must have been a mistake on his part. So, he let it pass without any notice that he'd heard anything.

The second time it happened, he looked up, not bothering to hide the surprise on his face. "What"

"I said 'Do you got any milk?' This stuff tastes like crap without it." Tokitoh tapped the coffee cup that Kubota had just handed him.

"Oh, uh...yes. One moment." He got up, and as he walked to the fridge, he stuck his finger in his ear and turned it back and forth. Had he just heard correctly?

He got the milk and turned back to the living room. Tokitoh sat on the couch, wrapped in two blankets as he watched the TV. His right hand lay underneath the folds of the blankets while the other held the remote.

He'd finally "graduated" from the bed a week earlier, and now spent almost every waking moment in front of the television, watching everything he could, and letting Kubota know his opinions on all of it. There were the cooking shows ("Hey, can you make that? Can you? Can you"), music videos ("Man, do these guys suck"), nature documentaries ("Whoa, check this out! They fight by throwing shit at each other"), and even the news ("What's a...'felony'? That guy has twelve of them. Is that why he's going to 'jail'?)

Most of their conversations were about what was on TV. After their initial introductions, when he said "Hi, I'm Kubota", and Tokitoh responded with a silent but effective "Hi, this is my fist", they didn't have much to say to each other, even though they spent so much time together. One morning, several days after he had woken up, Tokitoh said his name. He looked out the window when he said it. "That's all I know though." He turned to look at Kubota then, his gaze hard. "So don't bother asking me anything else 'cause I don't know it."

"Fair enough." Kubota hadn't felt the need to share anything about himself either, so this seemed like a perfect relationship. Don't ask, don't tell, and don't know.

With no past to share, their conversations were taken up with either what was for dinner or what was on TV, some words more heartfelt than others.

"What? Again"

Kubota only smiled in return as he put the plate of rice and brown curry on the table. It amused him that someone being taken care of by another would fight so vigilantly about what was being served for dinner. It was so different from the fake politeness that he had met most of his life, but then, everything about Tokitoh was different.

He reasoned that the difference must be why things had continued like this- from a few days to weeks, from the alley to the bedroom to the living room, from a fistful of silence to their media-focused conversations. He went back to the pot of curry and ladled out a portion onto his plate.

It must be because it's so different that it's come to this...

"Kubo-chan, I need a spoon."

His hand stilled, and slowly, he turned his head to look back at the table. "What"

"A spoon. If I gotta eat this stuff" Tokitoh gave him a sour look and tapped the plate"I'm gonna need something to eat it with."

Kubota turned back to the pot and looked down at it. He'd forgotten why he was standing there. He then noticed his plate, and it clicked back into place. Dinner- food- eat. "Right. Spoon." He put down the ladle and reached for the drawer. "Spoon-spoon-spoon." It was like a mantra, bringing him back from his thoughts, the ones that kept buzzing in his mind, saying "He said something else."

He took out the spoon and handed it to him. "Enjoy."

"Whatever." Tokitoh turned back to his plate and started to eat.

Later, when they were sitting on the couch, Kubota noticed the quiet that had fallen on the living room. The television still played, a comedy variety about guests who competed by throwing pudding ("Hey, it's just like the monkeys from before"), but after twenty minutes, Tokitoh's comments had stopped. Kubota turned to look over and saw his head leaning against the side of the couch, his eyes closed.

He picked up the blanket that had fallen on to the floor and placed it over him. He reached for the remote, but then realized that turning off the TV might create too much quiet, enough to wake up to. He left it on, and instead, got up himself. As quietly as possible, he opened the sliding door to the balcony, stepped out, and closed the door so little of the winter air could get inside. He walked up to the edge and leaned against it, and he could feel the cold concrete through his shirt.

With the door closed, he could barely hear the TV. Outside, the wind blew by the side of the building, and some cars drove on the street below. Besides that, it was all quiet.

He took out a cigarette and lit it, and listened to his own breath as he sighed out the smoke.

The only times he heard quiet now, the only time the TV wasn't playing, was when Tokitoh fell asleep, always in his bed, while Kubota stretched out on the couch. It was only then that he heard the slight noises the building made, or the wind outside, or the sound of one person in a room again.

He didn't know if he missed it- the quiet that filled his apartment before. He hadn't shared his living space with anyone since he'd moved out of Kasai's, and even back then, they never really talked. Here, the noise was almost constant, and if it wasn't from the TV, it was from Tokitoh- talking, complaining, fighting, laughing-

It was...so different...unexpected...Even though he brought him to the apartment, everything else after that had worked out in ways he couldn't have foreseen, just like Tokitoh's "hello". Furious and angry and so loud and-

"Damn, it's cold out here."

Kubota stopped staring at the street below and turned around. He saw that the door to the living room was open, and standing next to it, wrapped in a blanket, was Tokitoh.

_When had he opened the door? Why didn't I hear it?_

Tokitoh stepped out and walked over until he stood next to him. "What are you looking at"

Kubota turned back to look down . The cars were gone. The street was quiet and empty. "Nothing. I was just thinking."

"About what"

Kubota looked back at him. This seemed to be going past their "don't ask-don't tell" agreement, but somehow, he didn't mind. "About how quiet it was."

"Oh." Tokitoh kept his gaze on the street below, but he hugged the blanket closer. "Like, it's too quiet, or not quiet enough"

"That it's just...quiet. And how it's different now."

"Different good or different bad"

"Just different. You know what I mean"

"No." Tokitoh shook his head.

Kubota shrugged. "I guess I can't explain this one."

"Oh." He frowned, took a last look out, and then turned back to the door. "I'm going back in."

Kubota watched through the glass as Tokitoh stood in the living room, the blanket still around him. He stared at the TV for a moment, then picked up the remote and turned it off. Then he left down the hall- maybe to the bath or the bedroom.

Watching through the glass, it was like his living room was his own TV show, but now off and empty. He opened the door, and standing there, half in and half out, he could hear the sound of water running. Tokitoh must be in the washroom.

He shivered, and realization of the cold hit him finally. He stepped all the way inside and closed the door. He listened to the water running until it stopped, and in the quiet that was left, he reached over to the remote, and turned on the TV.

Tokitoh found him stretched out on the couch, a book in his hands.

"I guess I'm gonna go to bed." He stood there in the doorway to the hall, moving neither towards the living room nor to the bedroom. His next question wasn't spoken out loud, but Kubota figured what it was.

_Is this the night I take back my bed? Is this the time I say "enough"?_

He put his book down. "I'm going to read for a bit longer so I think I'll just bunk out here. See you in the morning." He smiled.

"You gonna read with that on" Tokitoh pointed to the TV.

Kubota looked and saw that the earlier news had turned into one of the late-night varieties, the one where young woman did stunts in bikinis. "Yes." He smiled back to Tokitoh who just gave him a strange look. "I find that..." He thought about it for a moment, but no better explanation came then "I like the sound of it." He turned back to his book.

"You're a weird guy, Kubo-chan."

He didn't look up in surprise this time. "I know."

"Night."

"Good night."

He turned down the TV a little as he heard him walk down the hall and close the bedroom door. As the variety program continued on in the background, he stared at the same page of his book, thinking.

He had heard him correctly. "...Kubo-chan"

But he realized that it was also something that he liked the sound of.


	5. At First Taste

**At first - 5**

**Taste**

It only took one night to change everything.

It had started out the same as any other day. Kubota woke up first, on the couch, and started a pot of coffee. Tokitoh got up eventually, and emerged from the bedroom, asking about breakfast. Afterwards, Kubota called Kou and headed out for work. "See you later," he called from the hall.

"Yeah!" Tokitoh yelled back as he sat on the couch, holding his coffee in his left hand and gingerly pressing the remote buttons with his clawed right.

Hours passed as they always did. In that space, Tokitoh napped, played video games, scrounged though the pantry, and stepped out to the balcony. The early spring air was cool, but not cold, and smelled fresh somehow, even with all the cars driving below.

He got bored a lot. When Kubota left the apartment to work or do whatever else he did, the place seemed very...empty. When he talked about what was on the TV, there was no one to talk back, or answer his questions, or just sit there and smoke that shit Kubota smoked all the time.

He'd gone out a few times. Kubota had gotten him some clothes that were his own size, and he'd gone to the convenience store and the bookstore. It was really strange at first, being around people who weren't Kubota or the hack, but he got used to it pretty quick, and no one saw him as anything different, especially since he always covered up his right hand with a glove. When he wore that, even he thought he was halfway to normal, and definitely not as weird and out there as Kubota.

It took time for him to get used to it though, going out, being around crowds. A part of him still stayed alert, but he never knew why, or what he had to look out for. It just stayed there in the back of his mind, and sometimes...sometimes in his dreams, but they were never clear either, just dark and...

He blocked that out of his mind. He hated thinking about his dreams since they brought up so many questions he could never answer, and he could never ask Kubota about them either. It was a reality that he didn't want to share, even though inside, he wanted to know what it meant.

Some time in the late afternoon, he got bored enough to head out. He tied on his sneakers, slipped on his coat, and locked the door. His hand stayed on the knob for a moment. Kubota had left him the key, and he wondered if it was the only one. Always when Kubota came back, he knocked on the door and waited for Tokitoh to open it up. What would happen if Kubota came home, and he wasn't there?

"...Maybe it's not the only one." Wouldn't it be stupid if it was? Why would Kubota leave the only key with him? What kind of weirdo does that?

Kubota was weird...but not that weird, he reasoned. He's got to have his own. Tokitoh pocketed the key and started down the stairs.

He didn't have any money though, so he only looked around. He noticed that people at the bookstore never bought books. They only stood around and read them, so he did the same thing, going through some magazines on video games and then some comics. After a while, he looked out through the store window, and saw that the late afternoon sun had dipped below the buildings.

It was getting late. He left the store and started back. The air was cool, and it felt more like winter than the spring it was supposed to be. He could even see his breath. It looked like the smoke that always came out of Kubota's mouth.

He wondered if Kubota was home yet. He usually got back some time before dark. Tokitoh rubbed his gloved hand against his bare one. When had it gotten so cold? When he got to the building, he started up the stairs, but stopped as he saw someone familiar walking down them.

Kubota's face was expressionless. He nodded to Tokitoh, and then walked past him.

He turned, "Hey, where are you going?"

"Out," Kubota answered. "There's nothing to eat. So, I'm going out."

Tokitoh watched his back as he walked further away. He broke into a run. "What the- wait!" He caught up to him and started to match his pace. "Where are you going?"

"Out. I told you."

"But weren't you 'out' all day?"

"Yep."

"So, now what?"

"Dinner. I told you."

"I know that, but-" Tokitoh stopped and watched at Kubota kept walking. Finally, he called out, "Where are we going to eat?"

Kubota stopped, but didn't turn. The light from the streetlamp above him made his breath look even whiter.

"Kubo-chan?"

Kubota started to walk again, but this time he headed across the street, towards a ramen stand. Tokitoh watched as he sat down at one of the stools and waved to the man behind the counter.

"What's his problem?" He followed. The seat next to him was taken by an older man, so he sat on the one at the end of the counter. The cook looked over at him. "Whaddya want?"

Tokitoh turned to Kubota who seemed to be staring at the TV behind the counter. "I'll have what he's having." He pointed.

"Two salty ramen, coming up." The cook turned back to his pots of steaming noodles.

Tokitoh bit his lip. He hated salty ramen. He wasn't the only one who knew this. He looked over to Kubota, who was now looking back at him.

"If I remember correctly, you told me once that salt ramen was, and I am paraphrasing here, the shittiest shit that ever did shit. Am I correct?"

Both the cook and the man sitting next to Kubota turned to look at him.

He could feel his face burning. "That's just...your salty ramen."

Kubota nodded. "I see."

The man next to Kubota placed some coins on the counter and got up from his stool. Neither of them moved to fill the space.

"Two salty ramen," the cook called out as he placed bowls in front of them. Tokitoh gazed down at his, and without looking towards Kubota, he picked up his chopsticks, broke them into two, and started to eat.

Damn, he hated this stuff. His lips puckered from the intense taste of soy sauce, but he kept slurping.

"A glass of water, please," he heard Kubota say, and then in the corner of his vision, he saw something put next to his bowl. He looked up to see Kubota pull his arm back from where he placed the glass.

At first, he didn't reach for it, but after a few more slurps, he grabbed the cup and started drinking. After putting it back down, almost half-emptied, he rubbed his sleeve across his mouth, and kept his gaze on his bowl. "...Thanks."

"I know how much you like it," Kubota went back to his own soup.

When they finished, Tokitoh looked back at him and patted his pockets. "I don't got anything on me."

Kubota nodded and paid for both their bowls, and without a word, got up to leave. Tokitoh watched him start down the street, and followed after.

"Are you...mad or something?" He had never seen Kubota act out any emotion- angry or scared or anything. He wondered if this was it.

"No." He took out a cigarette and lit it. "I was just...surprised, I guess."

"About what?"

"About how much I missed my key." He looked straight ahead as he talked. "I only got one."

"That's stupid." It came out before he could think of something else to say, but that's the way it always was.

"Yes, it probably is."

He reached into his pocket and took out the key. "So, here. Now, you won't miss it anymore."

Kubota kept walking.

"Hey, didn't you say that you wanted this?" He waved the key at him.

"No, I said I was surprised about how much I missed it." This time, he stopped. "I was surprised to come home and find it not there." He looked at Tokitoh. "I thought that maybe, it was really gone, and I realized that I...missed it."

This didn't make any sense to Tokitoh. "You didn't miss anything. I just went out, but look," he held it up. "If you want it that bad, take it, or make another one. Can't we do that?"

Kubota puffed out his cheeks, and let the air out slowly in a thin white line. He reached into his pocket and brought out something, and held it out to Tokitoh. It was a key identical to the one Tokitoh held.

"What the- so you got one! What's your problem?"

"No problem." Kubota patted his cheek and started walking again.

Damn, he never could figure him out. "Then why did you act like you couldn't get in?"

"I didn't. I said there was no food, and there wasn't."

"So, that's why you're mad?"

"Who said I was mad?"

"But-" Tokitoh didn't know what to say. Even though Kubota weirded him out, and said strange things all the time, he thought he knew him well enough to read a little of his emotions. And tonight had definitely been different from any other night. "I say you're mad, 'cause you are. I don't know why, but you are. So..." He threw up his hands. "Whatever. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for taking the key that you also have. I'm sorry I don't have any money so I couldn't buy dinner. I'm sorry that I'm such a big fucking inconvenience to you, and you gotta be all mad and shit-"

As he talked, he didn't know what he was saying- words just streamed out of him, just like their white breath. With each word, he saw Kubota take a step closer to him until their chests were only a few inches apart.

"-and then you gotta say stuff that- look, I don't get half the shit that comes out of your mouth-"

Then Kubota leaned down so his head touched his own, and he stood there with their foreheads resting against each other. So close, Tokitoh could smell cigarettes. "...what are you doing?"

"How was the ramen?" Kubota's breath was warm against his skin.

"It sucked."

"I didn't think it was so bad."

"Well, it was." Tokitoh had a hard time looking at anything else with Kubota right on top of him. "It was even worse than your curry."

"Your ringing endorsements always warm my heart."

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

He wondered how long they were going to stand like that. His breath kept fogging Kubota's glasses. He felt Kubota's hand on his, opening his fist and taking the key he had been holding, and then something slid into the pocket of his coat. "Kubo-chan?"

Kubota stood straight up and walked away. "It's yours. Keep it."

Tokitoh stayed in that spot. "I don't get you at all."

"That makes two of us." Kubota kept walking.

He sighed, shook his head, and then followed until he passed him. "Hurry up. It's freezing out here."

They walked back to the apartment, and when they got to the door, Kubota leaned by it, and waited. Tokitoh shot him a look as he reached into his pocket and took out his key.

Later, as he lay in bed, and listened to the TV still playing in the living room, he thought back to what Kubota had said, and how he had leaned so close to him.

_I thought that maybe, it was really gone, and I realized that I...missed it._

As he listened to those words in his head over and over, he wondered if all that stuff Kubota had said really was all about keys. He licked his lips and grimaced. He could still taste that salty ramen, even after brushing his teeth. He licked his lips again, but somehow they felt even drier.

"Maybe I need some water...or something."

He got up out of the bed and opened the door, but instead of walking to the washroom, he headed down the hall, to the living room and kitchen. There, he found Kubota on the couch, not watching the still-on TV, but also not reading the book on his lap. He was just staring straight ahead. He turned to Tokitoh. "Oh, you're awake?"

What a weirdo. "What does it look like?"

"Was it the TV?" Kubota moved to reach for the remote, but Tokitoh went into the kitchen.

"Nah, I just wanted some water."

"Ah." Kubota still turned off the TV. The living room became quiet, and it seemed strange, alien.

Tokitoh could hear himself gulp the water down. Somehow, the salty taste still stayed in his mouth. He put down the glass, and turned back to the living room. He motioned for Kubota to move over on the couch. "I wanna sit too."

"You don't want to go back to bed?"

"I said I wanna sit, so I'm sitting. You gotta problem?"

"No problem." Kubota sat up and gave him some room. "Anything else, O'Great One?"

Tokitoh shot him what he hoped was dark, angry look, but Kubota only smiled back. "I still got that stupid ramen taste in my mouth."

"Ah, sorry to hear that."

"I can't get it out. Whatever I do, it just stays there." He pointed to Kubota. "It's your fault."

"I didn't make you order it."

"Still, your fault."

"Okay then. What am I supposed to do about it?"

He didn't know what to say to that. He looked around the room, his gaze finally resting on the pack of Seven Stars on the table. "Can I have one of those?"

"I thought you hated cigarettes."

"I do."

"So, your logic is saying that you should eliminate the taste of one thing you hate with the taste of another thing you hate? Something tells me this is just going to continue the problem."

"It won't." He shook his head. "'Cause, I don't really hate those." He nodded to the pack. "I mean, I do. They reek like ass. But I don't because..." He kept his gaze on the cigarettes, and away from Kubota. "I don't because they smell like you, and I don't mind that so much. So, I'm thinking that if I don't mind that smell so much, I probably won't mind the taste. I mean, it's gotta get rid of the shit that's in my mouth right now, so, anything will do and-"

He stopped as Kubota's head again lowered in front of his. "Trust me. You won't like them," he said. "So what if I just blow on you. Would that help?"

Tokitoh swallowed. This seemed weird, so so weird, so so so weird, but still… "No, that won't do it."

"Then what?"

He'd realized when he been lying in that bed, thinking about what Kubota had said, what he had meant about the key and the "missing" thing and all that other stuff. And he realized, that...it made him happy to know that if he left, Kubota would miss him. That being here wasn't a big fucking inconvenience, or not enough of one anyways to make him open the door with his own fucking key.

And he realized that the reason why he left, why he got so bored in the first place, was because he had missed Kubota. He had missed the way he said things that never made sense, and the way he smoked constantly, stinking up the whole apartment, and the way sometimes he touched his hand when he thought Tokitoh was asleep. He would sit there and just hold his hand, and nothing else, and Tokitoh realized that he missed it when Kubota finally let go and walked away.

He...missed…

He missed-

"This." He closed his eyes and moved his head only a little, just a little forward, just a little bit. It was almost an accident, he reasoned, that his lips happened to touch Kubota's. And it was because he was too tired that he didn't move them away.

And it must be because Kubota was tired since he didn't move away either.

His lips did taste like cigarettes. It was so true, it was funny, and he smiled.

"What?" Kubota asked. He moved an inch away. "That bad?"

He didn't know what to say. Everything jumbling in his head seemed stupid, so he settled on, "Yeah, you're the worst."

"Well, that makes two-"

He hated that Kubota always said that line, but this time, he didn't let him finish it.

That victory tasted sweet.

**At last**

In bed, with the late night quiet blanketing the streets outside, Kubota lay.

But he no longer lay alone.

His hand rested on top of the blanket, and he felt the form beneath it, gently rising and falling. He edged closer, but stopped as his slight movement squeaked the bed they lay in. In the quiet, the sound seemed even louder than it was, but even with that small disturbance, the rhythm of breathing that raised and lowered his hand did not change. He chanced his luck and shifted over a little more until his head rested right above Tokitoh's. So close, he could smell the soap and shampoo that they both used in the bath before they had gone to bed. He lowered his head until his nose touched still-damp hair, and there he stayed. So near, his chest lay against Tokitoh's back, and every time he breathed in, he touched his warmth, over and over again.

Too dark to see clearly, and his glasses lay off on the table, but below his hand, and against his chest, and resting beneath his head, lay everything that reminded him that he shared this bed. When the light of dawn would stream through the window, warming all it touched, he would see this everything again.

See it, and then taste it.


End file.
